“I know you will, old friend. Don’t fail me again.”
“I won’t, sir.” Edwards turned to leave.
“Oh, and Allen.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Send someone up to clean this mess.”
The door shut behind Edwards. Van Ness navigated his wheelchair from behind his desk, steered a wide circle around the dead body, and stopped in front of his mahogany bookcase. He keyed in a code on his armrest.
A section of the bookcase eased out with a pneumatic hiss and rolled to the side, revealing a brightly lit corridor. It led to the back entrance of his top secret test facility, where the most exhilarating find in the Foundation’s illustrious history lay in wait. Excitement rose inside him as he accelerated forward toward the test rooms.
A creature lay dissected in the first. Originally found by villagers in Slovenia and reported as a strange body in a cave, the Foundation’s speech recognition software, monitoring global emergency calls, identified a caller saying, “Bitje,” the southern Slavic word for creature. Van Ness immediately sent a helicopter to the remote area, his team posing as a government agency. They collected the shriveled corpse and left before the real authorities arrived.
A woman dressed in scrubs and a surgical mask removed one of the creature’s dark brown organs and dropped it onto a metal weighing scale.
In the next room, Van Ness’ DNA sequencers worked on every available sample to see if they could detect any global patterns from recovered traces of blood. Most creatures died at the hands of the Foundation, usually in deep underground explosions, so Van Ness’ scientists cherished anything they could lay their hands on.
During the last couple of years, the occurrence of nests had doubled in frequency and the creatures were reported at higher depths. He had suspected they had been evolving for some time, but he had received only anecdotal evidence about their physical changes in form. That was until a group of cavers was reported missing at a site deep in the Alps. What his team returned with blew his mind.
Van Ness nudged his chair forward to the next room. Blue mist shrouded the space inside. He drew his father’s military swagger stick and tapped its brass sphere on the window.
A palm thrust out of the mist and thudded against the glass.
The creature’s hand and arm had a smaller, humanlike appearance. The razor-sharp black fingernails reminded him of his hundreds of historical battles, until the early nineties when a creature’s tail had broken his back in the depths of a Florida sinkhole.
Van Ness reached up and rested his palm on the opposite side of the glass. The creatures were evolving, and it was only a matter of time before they rose to the surface from beyond the abyss.
For a moment, he saw visions of creatures ripping the Austrian cavers to shreds, and he heard the creature’s words.
Those who help us will survive our onslaught.
I will, Van Ness thought.
“I will,” he said aloud.
His father once had a vision of global domination. Van Ness harbored the same ambition, though the Foundation had to take a new direction to achieve a dead man’s dream. If they stopped hunting the creatures and found a way to harness their power instead, no government on the planet, no president, no one, could resist Albert Van Ness’ demands.
Chapter Forty-One
Nine months later
Cafferty made his way toward the blue room in city hall, flanked by Ellen and the new mayor, James Rattner. The assembled press had gathered for his speech, ready to broadcast it live across the nation. If they expected him to talk about creatures and be ridiculed on the airwaves and their front pages for a second time, they were sorely mistaken.
In the weeks after that fateful day, the subways had been sealed off as thousands of national guardsmen scoured through every inch of every tunnel, every station, every shaft in the five boroughs. They found only fragments of bones. A federal archaeologist, almost certainly controlled by Van Ness, identified them as unique finds from the Triassic period, but not the creatures survivors had described. The fireball and implosion had done their job.
Cafferty’s official career had ended, but he was far from finished. He strode into the blue room, resolved not to give the slightest hint about his life’s new mission.
The press eyed him with cynicism as he pulled his notes from inside his jacket pocket and spread them on the podium. Rattner stood by his shoulder; Ellen stayed at the back of the room, cradling their baby.
“Mr. Mayor,” Cafferty said, “my fellow New Yorkers, my fellow Americans. I stand before you today as former mayor of this great city to make you a promise.
“I’ll work tirelessly for the rest of my life to make amends to every victim’s family, every traumatized survivor, and everyone else who the tragic event impacted. To achieve this goal, Ellen and I have created the David North Memorial Foundation.”
That much was true, but two could play at creating foundations with concealed functions. Today felt a million miles away from his speech in the Pavilion. His arrival had sucked the life out of the room, though he didn’t care. Nobody except a chosen few knew it marked the moment he started out on his quest to publicly uncover the creatures’ existence and to expose the Foundation for Human Advancement.
“No matter what you believe, what version of the truth you choose to accept, the fact remains—many of our friends, our loved ones, our brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, died that day. I thank God Ellen and our newborn son are here today, and although I cannot change the past, I can affect our future.”
A strange phenomenon had occurred since the disaster. Initially, fear and panic spread throughout the globe. But investigation after investigation in countries around the world uncovered no physical evidence, no proof, nothing to corroborate the survivors’ stories. Three months of congressional hearings and a UN Security Council investigation returned the same results—nothing.
Van Ness’ stranglehold reached far and wide.
“In the end,” Cafferty continued, “history will determine whether the good I create is greater than the damage I’ve caused. I promise you this—I will never stop working to right the true injustices in the world. Thank you, and God bless.”
“Why did the president pardon you?” a reported shouted.
Cafferty glared at Christopher Fields’ replacement at WNBC, wondering if he faced a Van Ness plant. He had resigned as mayor and come clean about the corners he cut to meet the project’s deadlines. The district attorney had indicted him on involuntary manslaughter because he was never aware of any danger in the completed tunnels. The judge sentenced him to fifteen years in prison.
The president had immediately pardoned him, much to the public’s disgust, but for reasons Cafferty understood. Reynolds had used his injuries and near-death experience to propel him into office for another four years, without the need for Van Ness’ fake news. The vice president unexpectedly resigned for health reasons, the secretary of defense retired, and half the president’s cabinet got fired after the election. The David North Foundation gained a new silent partner in the top position of government for its global fight.
Cafferty blanked everyone out as he left the room. Cameras flashed at his sides and journalists fired more questions. His days of appeasing the press and regular public appearances were over. His mantra going forward was to trust nobody apart from his inner circle.
Ellen joined him in the corridor and they left the building at a fast walk. Cafferty led them down the steps and into a waiting black car with tinted windows.
“You did well, honey,” she said.
“This is only the start. Do you think Mayor Rattner’s in on it?”
“He asked me a few questions about our plans for the North Foundation. I guess we’ll see.”
The car’s engine purred as it pulled away and sped along Park Row.
Everything from this point forward required precision planning and secrecy. Psychologists, unsurprisingly from a French institute, expl
ained away the creatures as some form of mass hallucination brought on by the methane leak. The bloodstained car was blamed on a suicide bomber, and evidence to disprove the claim lay under millions of tons of water and rubble. It worked. Publicly stating the creatures existed attracted ridicule.
The survivors found themselves defending their stories against a skeptical and often abusive media. The events of that day had become the source of hundreds of conspiracy theories, a rapidly produced bestselling book, a graphic novel, and a reality show called Sub Terranean, where contestants spent days together underground carrying out embarrassing tasks and the loser of the episode got punished. People couldn’t get enough.
It infuriated Cafferty how Van Ness continued to cleverly manipulate the situation into a source of mass entertainment, hiding the real truth in plain sight.
The car stopped at the side of Nassau Street. Cafferty changed into a casual jacket and tugged a Yankees cap over his head. He leaned over and kissed Ellen and baby David, shoved the door open, and headed along the sidewalk.
It never ceased to amaze him how easy it was to become invisible in Manhattan. He put it down to the flow of tourists and the rush of the streets. Not a single face flickered with recognition as he headed for his meeting.
Cafferty turned a corner and entered the Beekman Pub. Two figures sat at a table in the dark far corner. One turned as he approached.
“How’d it go?” Diego Munoz asked.
“As expected. They’ll be watching our every move.”
Sarah Bowcut pushed a pint of Guinness across the table. “And we’ll be watching the Foundation’s. I’ve booked my ticket to Paris.”
Cafferty sat and took two refreshing gulps of his pint. The look of determination in their eyes matched his inner drive. This was just the beginning, but each of them had vowed to see it through to the very end. Whatever the consequences.
For the next few minutes, the team quietly discussed the rest of their European travel plans, until the owner of the pub fished a remote control from behind the bar. He increased the volume of a wall-mounted television in the corner of the room.
A bold CNN headline read: “breaking news: president reynolds missing.”
The pub fell silent.
All eyes turned to the on-screen anchor. She reported that Reynolds went out for a jog and had never returned to Camp David’s main lodge. Five of his security detail had been discovered during a search of Catoctin Mountain Park’s wooded hills. Each with multiple gunshot wounds.
“It’s Van Ness,” Munoz muttered. “That asshole has a real hard-on for Reynolds.”
Cafferty put his finger to his lips. He considered nowhere safe from the old German’s grasp, and this latest move only added to the Foundation of Human Advancement’s already mountainous list of crimes. Reynolds refused to play ball and this time they had successfully taken him. It was the only logical explanation in his mind, and it came as no surprise.
Events like these would only continue unless somebody stopped the disease that was blighting the world. Somebody needed to stop Van Ness. And that somebody was Tom Cafferty.
Albert Van Ness would regret the day he unearthed the terror below New York and crossed swords with a man who didn’t know how to lose.
Acknowledgments
I wrote Awakened on a dare thirteen years ago. Thanks to Chris Spear for daring me. A huge thanks to my friend Darren Wearmouth for being such an excellent writer and collaborator, not to mention an all-around nice guy. Read all his books—you’ll love them. Thanks to David Pomerico from Harper Voyager and Lisa Sharkey from HarperCollins for their belief in the novel and their constant guidance. They have been an absolute pleasure to work with. Thanks to my best friends Joey, Sal, and Brian for giving me the courage to succeed after I thought I had failed. Thanks to Jack Rovner and Dexter Scott from Vector Management; Nick Nuciforo and Marc Gerald from UTA; Danny Passman from Gang, Tyre, Ramer & Brown; and Phil Sarna and Mitch Pearlstein from PSBM. The best team in the business.
Mom and Dad—thanks for raising me to believe I could achieve all of my dreams. I love you both. And finally, thanks to all the Impractical Jokers fans out there who make all these amazing opportunities possible. You truly are the best fans in the world, and I hope you enjoy the Awakened trilogy!
—James S. Murray
That James wrote this book a decade ago and the concept has stood the test of time is a big tick against who he is as a creator and writer. It’s been an honor working with him on Awakened, and we’ve had a lot of fun along the way. I’d also like to thank three other people. First, Paul Lucas from Janklow & Nesbit. Paul is my agent and works tirelessly on my behalf. His advice is beyond value. Second, David Pomerico from Harper Voyager. If you ever look behind the curtain of any great book, you’ll generally find a fantastic editor sitting there. David is one of those, and millions of people have unknowingly read novels containing his fingerprints. Third, Dawn, who puts up with my long hours in the office and my many moments of distraction, and unconditionally supports my endeavors. I love her for it. Lastly, and most importantly, a huge thanks to you for reading Awakened.
—Darren Wearmouth
About the Authors
JAMES S. MURRAY is a writer, executive producer, and actor, best known as “Murr” on the hit television show Impractical Jokers on truTV and for his comedy troupe, the Tenderloins. He also served as the senior vice president of development for NorthSouth Productions for over a decade and is owner of Impractical Productions, Inc. Originally from Staten Island, he now lives in Manhattan. Awakened is his first novel.
DARREN WEARMOUTH spent six years in the British army before pursuing a career in corporate technology. After fifteen years working for a large telecommunications firm and a start-up, he decided to follow his passion for writing. He is the author of numerous novels, including First Activation, Fast Forward, and Sixth Cycle. He lives in Manchester, England.
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Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
awakened. Copyright © 2018 by James S. Murray. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Digital Edition JUNE 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-268790-6
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-268788-3
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